


suddenly weightless.

by lovesincerelyharry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 03:12:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovesincerelyharry/pseuds/lovesincerelyharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One morning, Harry wakes up with wings.</p><p>Based off of these <a href="http://strangenewfriends.tumblr.com/post/64612445353">AU tags</a>.</p><p>Also found at <a href="http://lovesincerelyharry.tumblr.com/">lovesincerelyharry</a> on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	suddenly weightless.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Sabrina](http://strangenewfriends.tumblr.com/) for allowing me to use her idea.
> 
> Thank you to [the creator](http://renzirodriguez.tumblr.com/) of [the photo](http://renzirodriguez.tumblr.com/post/64591203531) in which the tags are based off of.
> 
> I wrote this very quickly; I hope you enjoy it.

_The roots behind mythology and the creatures associated with the gods and goddesses dates back even before the concept was coined. Back in the…_

The miniscule words blurred on the page, and Harry flicked his glasses off and tossed them down on the open spine of the eight hundred plus page book. The idea of mythology intrigued him before, but now, he barely tried to feign his interest. As a migraine threatened to manifest Harry’s skull, he stood up from his stiff, wooden chair and traded the seat for the small couch across the room, courtesy of his mother and step-father who gladly agreed to buy it for him his second year at university.

As soon as he sat down and reached for the remote, his cell phone bounced across the table he was just at, attempting to vibrate off the edge of the desk. Hurriedly, he took three long strides and snatched the phone, bringing it to his ear.

“Hello?” he asked quickly, without even noticing who called him.

“How does our thick-headed professor think we can read over two hundred pages of some shit book in one night when it’s nearly my bedtime?”

Harry smiled at the familiar voice as he sunk back down into the couch. “I’m on page ten, at the moment, and I already feel a migraine coming on.”

“Oh, no,” Louis gasped on the other end, “I’m on my way over with a box of chocolate and a cuppa. Can’t have my Harold in pain.”

Harry blushed at the floor, thankful that Louis wasn’t there to see him. “Not forcing you to do anything you don’t want to.”

Louis scoffed. “For you, Harold, I would do anything.”

Harry’s lips spread, and his dimples shown on his face. As he fumbled for the right words to say, he listened to the rustling of papers on Louis’ end and the muttering of several curse words.

“I hate to cut this short, but I’ve just realized my essay for sociology is due tomorrow and I have yet to start it.” Louis moved some papers around again in Harry’s ear.

“I will talk to you in class tomorrow then?” Harry asked, hoping he already knew the answer to the question.

Louis didn’t answer for a few seconds until quickly muttering, “absolutely, sure, yeah,” into the receiver, obviously distracted by his classwork. Harry tried not to take it personally as they bid each other farewell, and Harry was left in silence in the middle of his small flat. He tossed his phone to the other side of the couch and slumped down into the cushions further.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he mumbled, covering his face with his hands. As if focusing on his studies wasn’t hard enough, he had to throw Louis Tomlinson, the football-playing drama student, into the mix; amidst all the stress in his life, he just had to have a crush on Louis. And even though Louis was nothing but sweet and flirty to Harry, he just didn’t believe that Louis’ feelings were at all mutual.

Watching television no longer seemed like an option for Harry considering his migraine was raging now. Instead, he reached over for his phone again and tucked it under one of the cushions. As Harry stood up from the couch, he leaned back, his spine cracking in three different places. He massaged his shoulder, the small ache resonating _right there_ , as he trod to his tiny bedroom. He took off his shirt, opting for just sweatpants, his comforter suddenly looking much too welcoming.

The last things he thought about before his head hit the pillow were Louis’ high giggle and the ache in his middle back.

After barely getting an hour of sleep, Harry woke up to his hair matted to his forehead and his back tingling, a burning ache on his shoulder blades. Frantically heading to the bathroom, he grabbed the first bottle of pills he could find, popping three into his mouth. He turned around in front of the mirror, noticing two, big, red blotches on his back. Harry curved his back, moving his muscles and adjusting his spine and shoulders. His skin seemed to move by its own accord, though, rippling whether Harry moved or not.

Harry shook his head and spun around, placing his hands on either side of the sink. The illusion, Harry blamed it on not wearing his glasses, and before he had a chance to worry himself anymore, walked back in bed, sinking into the mattress. As he lay on his back, the ache slowly faded, and Harry shouted a mental, “thank you,” as he slowly shut his eyes again, hoping to see Louis appear behind his eyelids.

And somehow, by morning, Harry ended up on his stomach, his face pressed firmly into the pillow. He moved slightly, sunlight creeping its way onto Harry’s bed, and as he moved his arms to push himself up, he felt something tickle his arm. The texture felt like a feather; Harry crinkled his nose, his mind disagreeing with his senses, and when he turned his head to look at his arm, a mass of white feathers looked back at him. Harry’s eyes trailed up the feathers, and when he found the source, he jumped out of bed and bolted to the bathroom. He turned his back to the mirror.

Staring at him were two, huge wings consisting of dazzling, white feathers connected to his shoulder blades. He raised his arms midway, and the wings lifted up slightly. Harry slapped his hands down, and the wings folded in on themselves a bit but were still nearly as wide as Harry was tall. He reached his hand back and ran it over the feathers, and his wing twitched instinctively as he felt the touch go through the wing and into his back. Harry couldn’t help but gape at his reflection, sweat slowly beading on his forehead.

He ran out of the bathroom and into the living room where he reached for his phone in the couch. Quickly, he dialed Louis’ number and placed it against his ear. After the first dial tone sounded, Harry hurriedly ended the call and threw his phone on the couch again. His heart was racing in his chest and his blood thudded in his ears. His wings suddenly felt heavier as inhaled deeply, trying to center his thoughts.

Who should he call? Definitely not Louis; that was a bad idea from the start. His mother? How would he explain it to her? Gemma would be of no help, either. As his mind frantically jumped from idea to idea, his eyes drifted over to his laptop sitting directly next to his mythology book. His legs moved independently of his thoughts and sat him down at his desk. Absentmindedly, his hands opened his computer, and before he knew it, he typed in the words, “can people grow wings.” Behind him, he was hyper-aware of the weight on his back as his wings curved in and hung heavily towards his sides.

He clicked on the second link and solemnly read the answer to the question, which came out as a solid no. Wings were not possible on a human being, yet when Harry looked behind him all he saw were huge, white wings glaring back at him, twitching when he moved his arm or adjusted his back.

“Why…” Harry groaned as he reached his right hand to his left wing. He tugged on the end of it, hoping by some twist of fate that the wing would pop off, that maybe Harry was just crazy. Instead of it coming off, Harry breathed in sharply when he felt the pain travel through his wing and straight down his back. He groaned and collapsed forward, rested his head on the desk with a soft thud. Behind him, he distinctly heard the buzzing of his phone. The time on his computer matched the time when his mythology class started with Louis. He groaned again, knowing he couldn’t even see Louis today yet alone go outside in public with these _things_.

Ignoring the repetitive buzzing from his phone, Harry went back to his laptop, scrolling down through the different links on his search. However, instead of finding something useful, he found someone’s blog on which this person insists that humans can grow wings. After reading several paragraphs, Harry shook with frustration. None of it made sense to him; it was just some kid who believed in the supernatural, and now, Harry was living it.

As one hyperlink led to another which led to another, Harry found himself twenty sites later, eyes bloodshot and mouth open, trying to make sense of what happened to him. A near twelve hours had gone by, and still, the only things Harry had to go on were random blogs and supernatural shows and comics. As he neared exhaustion, he shut his laptop and struggled to stand up, forgetting his wings for a moment as they bumped against the desk chair.

What do I do? Harry thought, running his hands over the very tip of his right wing. The feathers were soft, and suddenly, Harry got lost in the feeling of his touch, moving to the couch and closing his eyes. It was unlike anything Harry had ever felt, just the sheer feeling of his touch on the sensitive appendage began to coax him to sleep. And before he had time to notice his phone ringing again, he was fast asleep.

The way he fell asleep, by morning, his back ached, the main root of his ache being at the base of his wings. He pressed back on them all night, and when he arched his back as he woke, pain shot through his back. He groaned and repositioned himself face down on the couch, much like the position in which he found his wings. This time, his wings rested perfectly down his back, billowing over his sides. He found himself absentmindedly stroking the end of one.

As Harry lay there, all of the thoughts he put off from last night came rushing back into his head. He had no idea how he would ever leave his flat; his wings were huge and, so far, they hadn’t gone away. Also, just the explanation alone to his family and friends would be excruciatingly difficult. And then there was Louis, _Louis_. Any small chance he may have had before with Louis was completely gone now, seeing as Harry was now some lanky freak of nature with huge, white wings. As if his shoulders weren’t already broad enough.

He angrily sat up and stomped back to his computer. He logged back in and found the last page he’d been on. Again, he began his descent into the unknown, trying to see if maybe, just maybe, he missed something last night. As the realization dawned on him that he was reaching no conclusions, a chat box popped up on his screen. Harry huffed as he read the message from his friend, Niall, asking him where he was yesterday and today. Harry shoddily typed something, feigning sickness, and shut his laptop before he received another message asking him what was wrong exactly. No matter how understanding Niall was, Harry doubted that he’d ever understand something quite like this.

He leaned back in his chair, crushing his wings in the process and groaning. Instead, he brought his head forward and landed on top of the mythology book. His eyes scanned the eight hundred page book, and then, his hands grappled for the index. He searched for only one word: Wings. Two pages shown next to the indexed word. Harry flipped to the first one.

The picture on the left page depicted a man with large wings laying on top of a rock in the ocean. The title of the following page was “Icarus.” Skimming the first paragraph, Harry continued to read on, finishing the whole section in less than a minute. Not much was said about this man, other than his father created wings for Icarus to fly off of Crete. Since his wings were made of feathers and wax, when he flew too close to the sun, the wax melted and he fell to his death. Harry stroked his right wing, knowing his fate would be nothing like that.

Noticing the failed search, he flipped to the second page listed in the index. This new section was titled “Human with Animal Characteristics.” Harry pursed his lips, his eyes travelling down the page until he came across the subsection, “Wings.” There was only one category that matched his condition, having bird-like wings, having feathers.

Quickly, he closed the book. “No,” Harry said to himself. “Get it out of your head.” Harry stood up and noticed the sun was no longer in the sky. “You are nothing like that. It’s just mythology.” Harry walked over to the window, noticing his reflection in the glass; his face fell. “Except it’s all very real now.” He rolled his shoulders back, and his wings flicked up, spanning at least five feet. The word angel echoed in his head without cessation.

The noise of his phone vibrating brought him back, and this time, instead of letting it ring, he walked over to it, noticing Louis’ number on the screen. He took in a deep breath and answered, his voice as steady as he could muster.

“Hey, Lou.”

A broken sob came from the other end. “H-Harry?”

His heart shattered. “Louis, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“Harry…” Louis’ voice quivered. “I-I need you t-to come over. I dunno what’s wrong.”

“Are you hurt? Are you sick? What happened?”

Louis gasped for air. “J-Just get here quick, please.”

Harry didn’t need any more of a prompt. He promised Louis he’d be there as soon as possible and ran for his jacket. He grabbed a hoodie first, but his wings poked out from the bottom of the jacket. He swapped that for his pea coat, hoping to have more success. Since it was longer, the ends of his wings were covered, but it seemed like Harry’s back was hunched beyond repair. But at the moment, it didn’t matter; all that mattered was getting to Louis.

As quickly as he got the phone call, he had his jacket and shoes on and was hurrying out of his flat, phone in hand, just in case. The weather was much too nice for a pea coat, and as Harry nearly ran to Louis’ flat a few blocks away, beads of sweat started forming on Harry’s forehead, and Harry’s wings were heavy and hot on his back. Once he passed under the sixth streetlight, he turned up the stairs to Louis’ apartment complex, ascending the stairs to the third floor. As soon as he knocked, the door swung open.

Louis stood there in nothing but sweatpants, much like Harry, and stemming from his back were two large wings, white and beautiful; and Louis let out a choked sob, grabbing Harry’s hand and pulling him into his flat. Louis slammed the door behind the two of them before wrapping his arms around a shocked Harry.

“I-I dunno what to do. I-I took a nap, and I woke up w-with these.” Louis pulled away and pointed at his wings. “Harry, I d-don’t know –” Harry quickly put his finger in front of Louis’ mouth.

Without talking, Harry unbuttoned his jacket and slowly slipped it off. As it fell to the ground, he felt his wings open up, the feathers twitching as he adjusted his back. Louis’ eyes travelled the length of Harry’s wings, tears no longer running down his face. Harry reached out for Louis’ hand, and as Louis took ahold of it, he closed the distance between he and Harry, their lips pressing together silently as their wings finally became weightless.

**Author's Note:**

> Bookmark, leave kudos, comment; thank you.


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